Painted into a corner

Sophie and Zack had learnt the hard way Ð honesty is the best policy!

On Friday evening, I' d just rolled another layer of dove-grey emulsion on to the wall when I saw Jane' s car draw up.

Zack, it' s your mother!' I yelled past the stepladder, dust sheets and stacked-up cans of paint.

Inside the kitchen, my fiancé daubed lilac paint on to dark brown cupboards.

So we could save for our wedding, we' d planned a spruce-up rather than a big refit to our new house.

I turned back to the window in time to see his mother heaving something huge out of the rear of her estate car. She kept pulling, and it kept coming.

The thing she fought with was wrapped in a sheet, tied with string.

Is that a picture? I wondered.

It was a monster of a picture, if so.

Once out of the vehicle, she wrestled it upright, the wind tugging it to and fro like a sail. It dwarfed her as she leant it against the car.

Clearly deciding it wouldn' t fall, she rushed up the drive yelling: Woo-hoo!'

I reached the door before the bell rang.

Jane, lovely to see you!' I have something for you, Sophie,' she said. Can you help bring it in?'

I love presents. When we moved in, I' d gone shopping with her and she' d bought me two complete bedding sets and some cushions.

So now, I couldn' t get to her gift fast enough.

Feeling the edges, I deduced it must be a canvas stretched over a frame.

What' s it of?' I asked as Jane took the other side.

I' m not telling, I want it to be a surprise,' she replied.

She held one end up while I lofted the other, and we edged it down the tarmac.

When we reached the door, Zack appeared, paint on one cheek, his old T-shirt and jeans splattered with lilac drips.

What' s that, Mum?' he asked, aiming a kiss at her cheek as she passed.

I know you like abstracts,' she replied.

Agrand unveiling followed in the lounge.

Zack cut the string, she pulled off the cover and there it was a blurry, bright and garish abstract of what looked like, but surely couldn' t be, the Blackpool illuminations.

Isn' t it fabulous?' Jane enthused.

Zack blinked while I gave him a look, one I felt clearly said: It' s the size of a wall and doesn't go with anything.

She' s your mum, you tell her.

But he blatantly refused to translate.

It' s great, Mum, I' m sure we' ll find somewhere for it.'

Then he wrapped an arm about her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

What else could I do but plaster on a smile and wait for her to leave?

I turned back to the window in time to see his mother heaving something huge out of the rear of her estate car

It took a while, since he

insisted on escorting her about, showing off our new colour schemes.

After she' d left, it was clear Zack and I had a problem, the first I could think of since we' d met one rainy night in March 18 months ago.

OK, I thought, squinting at the monstrous painting. We just need to act like adults and solve this problem.

That' s settled then, we' ll pretend we spilled paint on it,'

Zack said the next morning as we paced the lounge.

So much for acting like grown-ups.

The night before, we' d moved the huge canvas from room to room, trying to find somewhere it would fit.

We' d traversed the lounge, dining room, bedroom and landing. Zack kept curling his lip and I kept sighing.

The more we moved it, the more we loathed it, and the more we hated ourselves.

Mum was only trying to be nice,' he kept muttering.

I hadn' t argued with his theory. After all, nice gets all the best press, doesn' t it?

We' re all supposed to be so generous. She' d been nice, so now we' d be nice in return kind of, at least.

Right, OK. You spill some of your lavender paint on it and it can be your fault,' I replied to his suggestion.

No, you spill some of your grey,' he said.

I don' t want her to think I did it¼'

I don' t want her to think I did it either! OK, fine, we' ll spill both colours.'

I frowned.

How' s that going to look like an accident?'

Zack would never make a criminal mastermind.

He heaved a sigh and plonked himself down on the dust-sheet on the sofa while I collapsed into a chair.

Maybe we could drop it from the top of the stairs?' I suggested. Say we were both taking it up and it hit the banister and got knocked out of our hands.'

He blinked.

Yes, we could say how heartbroken we are. We could say we' re devastated.' I nodded.

Right then, let' s try.' We carted the painting up the stairs, then I knocked it against the banister at the top to match our scenario.

I let go, then he did, and the big canvas slipped.

It slid all the way down the steps perfectly upright, hit the wall at the bottom then tipped into the hall.

I cursed its refusal to break. We might need to do this a few times.'

It took four in all. Four for the frame to crack, four, and a bit of Zack wriggling at the nails, for it to come apart. Then it collapsed like a tent without poles.

Will that do it?' Zack asked gulping. I have to admit, I feel terrible now.'

I poked my hand through the frame and tore the canvas a little. Doing so felt like somebody reaching in and tearing my heart apart.

Me too, but it' s done,' I said, like somebody standing over a grave.

Yes,' he agreed. It' s over.'

Leaving what was left of Blackpool' propped up in the hall, we silently went back to work.

I rolled grey paint all over the lounge and he went back to painting kitchen units. We barely spoke for hours.

We need to call Mum and tell her,' he said finally as we pulled things out of the fridge to make sandwiches at lunchtime.

She' s your mum, you do it,' I said.

I thought maybe it' d be better coming from you.'

How do you work that out? Son to mother is far better than woman to woman,' I said, scowling as I chewed on a cheese and onion sarnie.

I hurried back into the lounge to avoid him. Deceit didn' t suit us.

In the end, we didn' t have to worry about which of us

Painted into a corner

It slid all the way down the steps perfectly upright, hit the wall at the bottom then tipped into the hall

would ring his mother, as she turned up at about 3.30pm. I' d just rolled on a second coat of dove grey when I saw her car draw up.

Zack, it' s your mother again!' I called.

I watched Jane climb out of her car and open the boot. Then I gasped as she wrestled something into view.

No, no, no, no!'

Was this some kind of Groundhog Day? Was the universe trying to rewind?

The wind pulled at the huge sheet-wrapped canvas that Jane lugged out of the back of her car.

She propped it against the boot, then rushed towards the door, yelling woo-hoo!' like a demented owl.

I reached the door once more just before his mother rang the bell.

Jane, you' re on repeat!' I know,' she laughed. Can you help me bring it in?'

My heart sinking into my paint-splattered trainers, I traipsed down the drive.

When I reached the picture, I felt at its edges. Yes, it was another canvas.

Smiling, I helped her lug it down the tarmac.

Inside, a surprise was waiting for Jane.

Oh,' she said in the hall when she saw her first

offering stuttered, her Oh, second er¼' in tatters. leaning I offering against At last, the Zack wall. appeared. Mum?' he said. We, er¼' I gave him a look, but he didn' t say a word. So I gave him a prod in the ribs. He tried again. We, er, we dropped it. When we were moving it upstairs. Sorry.' Oh dear,' Jane replied. It' s lucky I brought this one then.' Another grand unveiling followed in the lounge. Zack cut the string, she pulled off the cover and there it was, a matching gaudy abstract. Isn' t it fabulous?' she said.

At 25, I knew I should behave like an adult. Instead, I plastered on another smile.

Yes, it' s amazing.' Would you like some coffee?' Zack cut in, trying change the subject. I prefer tea,' Jane replied. Would you like a custard cream with it?' he inquired.

I' d rather a digestive.' Wow, look at her being all

decisive, I thought. I bet her house isn't full of art she hates.

I looked at Zack and thought of all the years ahead, of all the times our families might interfere, in our house, at our wedding and when children appeared.

If we didn' t make a stand now, how bad would it get?

Suddenly it wasn' t simply a version of Groundhog Day, it was our future at stake.

That might be why I blurted: We didn' t like it!' S orry?' Jane said, actually backing off a step. Zack pitched in. Mum,' he said gently. The pictures they' explosion to I this, expected re I not are would. really great, tears then us.' again, or but an new said Really, something. you should I still have have the receipt.' She dipped in her pocket and fished it out as if she had it on standby all along, and waved it under his nose. She' d raised a lovely boy, he' d do anything not to hurt her. Still, being nice can tie you in all kinds of knots.

That' s why I decided it might be best to be honest, then things like this wouldn' t repeat on us forever. Thanks ever so much,' I said taking the receipt from her fingers. We' ll take it back and get something we like. Now, I' ll just go and get you that coffee.'

Tea,' Jane corrected. Of course,' I nodded.

I gave Zack another look then, that clearly stated: We need to get better at this kind of thing.

Only then I thought, maybe it would be better to say things out loud to him.

That would remove all the guesswork, and it would be more mature. There, you see, I smiled to

myself. Acting like an adult's not all that difficult, is it?

Wow, look at her being all decisive. I bet her house isnÕ t full of art she hatesÕ